‘You understand, I perceive. You are merely to go to this gentleman with a story, told in your best language and style, that you are a messenger from a repentant man on his deathbed, who confesses that he formerly stole the child. The dying man is most anxious for an interview with the gentleman he has wronged, for the purpose of imploring his pardon and revealing the whereabouts and position of the girl, who, he says, is yet living. When you have succeeded in arousing the gentleman’s interest and eagerness, as you doubtless will, he will almost surely send you to me. I shall not be in Rome, and shall be careful to let him know beforehand. He will, therefore, recollect himself, and, as we may hope, decide to accompany you to this dying man. All this must be timed to fall tolerably late at night, which will also give the affair all the more appearance of genuineness. On the way to that dying man my worthy uncle must be left by the roadside, for ever oblivious of missing child and present grief.’ ‘By Pluto!’ cried the Suburan, smiting his thigh in delight and admiration, ‘the very thing I advised you only yesterday. I marvel you have not done this before; but then your worship is so merciful. However, better late than never, and it was bound to come at some time. Bacchus, what a cunning plan! Fate cut you out for a great man, and a thousand Fabricii could not stay you.’ ‘No names—walls have ears!’ said the knight sternly. ‘True,’ replied Cestus. ‘It was my delight which let it slip. _Euge_, Cestus! Five hundred sestertia for simply helping an old man on the road to the Elysian fields—why, patron, the pay is so princely, and the task so light, that I feel somewhat ashamed of accepting the terms.’ ‘You are perfectly at liberty to return whatever your conscience considers to be superfluous,’ remarked Afer. ‘Well, we will see how matters turn out,’ answered Cestus, with a grin. ‘No doubt when the sad news is brought to your wondering ears, you will be in a dreadful state of mind, and will lay the bloodhounds on the track of the villains all over the city?’ ‘It may, very probably, be necessary to act in some such way,’ responded the knight, with a shadowy smile. ‘Let me see,’ he murmured, as he passed his hand over his brow, and remained in deep thought for a few moments; ‘come to‐night, and we will arrange everything.’ ‘To‐night!’ ‘And, Cestus, be secret; and beware of the wine‐pot.’ ‘Never fear; it is only when Cestus is idle that he amuses himself in that way. Give him work, and work to some purpose, like this, and his head remains clear as water—and when your honour lays the plan there is no more to be added.’ ‘Engage your comrades to‐day. To‐morrow I shall go to Tibur—the day after to‐morrow meet me at the Sublician Bridge at nightfall.’ ‘But I shall see you to‐night, as you said?’